


Entertainment

by deltasrogue



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, F/M, Might be a one shot?, Nat and Marya are just mentioned, surprise surprise anatole is an asshat, the second one is very brief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29070738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltasrogue/pseuds/deltasrogue
Summary: Anatole and Helene discuss NatashaA modern-AU take on the Kuragin mischief that leads up to the great disaster of 1812
Relationships: Anatole Vasilyevich Kuragin/Natalya "Natasha" Ilyinichna Rostova, Marya Dmitryevna Akhrosimova/Elena "Hélène" Vasilyevna Kuragina
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	Entertainment

**Author's Note:**

> Don't mind me, testing out new concepts until I find one I like XD  
> This starts out pretty heavy right away, but it lightens after the first two paragraphs! I wrote this in a way so hopefully you can interpret it to mean Helene and Marya could have a few different dynamics going on here.  
> I have no clue if this is a Kuragin analysis one shot or a multi-chapter prologue, but I hope you guys like it!

"Helene, could you for once not try to talk on subjects like these so you don't sound like an idiot?" Aline inquired in a condescending voice. Her daughter didn't respond verbally, instead glancing to her father who had yet to say a word. Helene wasn't surprised; he wasn't the mediating type. For all the regality and dignity tied to their family name, it seemed not a single one of them had a real backbone. Even strong, cold Vasili only stood up when his personal image was at stake; their family had already learned the art of a flawless group image. The silence spanned and Aline offered a tight-lipped smile. "Good girl," 

The Kuragin children were taught one thing: respect. How much they defied that in school would get them disowned in seconds. But here, they were perfect: cleaned up after themselves, used manners, never really spoke out of line, never yelled or cried. Compassion and emotions were never taught and never witnessed. How that manifested was none of their parents' business, nor did they care as long as reputation was concerned.

For Anatole, it meant his emotions became _loud._ Everything he did was over the top, from arguments to late class entrances. Part of him liked knowing teachers were horrified to see his name on their roster, because he knew the hell he unleashed would never come back to his parents. He could be loud, or angry, or upset, and nobody would stop him. Even better, his classmates _liked it._ They liked watching their teachers have to bare crazy selfies and feet up on the desk, or listen to question that made them squirm. He locked lips with at least one girl a week so he could refuse to make it serious, that way he'd never have to bring anyone home. The truth was, well, Anatole got around, yet he was attractive and dangerously perceptive: he knew how to get whatever he wanted. 

Helene, his sister, went to the other extreme in almost every way. Like him, she loved the spectacle-loved the awestruck stares as she passed by. She loved it for the game: how artificial she could be, or what degree of it was just false enough they believed it. Believed she was their friend, wanted the best for them. Helene hid or turned off everything and observed. Observed who liked what or who, and why. She took pleasure in the way they trusted her just as much as they adored her; no matter how many questions she deflected, they just wanted to feel special. Helene was bold only when it was going to strike people and pluck the string of admiration, and she carried that divinity with her everywhere she went. She did exactly what was expected of the 'popular girl' and got the role in return. She put herself in scandals when she got bored. She slept with whoever she wanted, did whatever drugs she wanted, and had enough control over the rumors that if she didn't like them they were immediately cut dead. Her entertainment mainly came in the form of watching chaos and living vicariously through its downfall. 

The two of them together were a match made in heaven-or hell, depending on who you asked. They were tantalizing and downright seductive. Whoever Anatole wanted he got, and whoever annoyed Helene paid for it, the other weaving the webs behind the scenes. They could put a person on top of the world with a smile, and throw them six feet under just as fast. They clung to each other and were rarely seen apart: a duo of charisma and perfect smiles, despite the clear dissimilarities between the dramatic and the composed. They were seen as complete opposites every moment they spent speaking in the other's ear, laughing. How similar they were once they walked into their home when it was empty, away from the public eye, would've shocked anyone. 

"I was thinking that new girl, Natasha," Anatole pondered, hearing his sister scoff aloud from where she stood in the doorway, unlacing her boots and checking back towards the driveway to make sure their parents weren't home. "What?" His brows were furrowed, staring at her. Helene just laughed. "What?" He asked again as the curly haired girl followed him into the kitchen. 

"The one that's staying with Marya Dmitrievna? Are you joking?" She asked in a light tone with one eyebrow raised, though couldn't get through her sentiment given the absurdity without giggling. 

A pout found its way onto his lips, "Yes, her," He clicked his tongue, turning towards the cabinets to find a bottle opener. "Why are you laughing?"

"Because, Toly, that is _crazy,_ " Helene tsked, "Playing around with Marya Dmitrievna is a terrible idea," 

"Need I remind you that you have _fucked_ Marya Dmitrievna?" He pointed out, smirking as she swatted at his arm, "Am I wrong?"

"No, but this is different," His sister rolled her eyes. 

"The only difference is that Natasha will be even _easier._ Like, zero effort," Anatole explained with rather drastic use of his hands before setting the bottle opener down on the counter, leaning back against it as he looked his sister in the eye for the first time, puppy-dog eyes immediately going into full effect. Her only response was to scoff, beginning to turn away. 

"I'm not watching you get beheaded by-"

Suddenly, Anatole leaned over and gripped at collar of her shirt on either side, using it to pull her nearly a foot away from his face. "You have to help me," 

She removed his hands with yet another scoff, "Thought you said she'd be easy," Her arms crossed over her chest, shoulders falling as Anatole let out an exaggerated groan. "Anatole, this is ridiculous. This is playing with fire," 

"I _neeeeed_ her!" The younger of the pair whined, reaching up again, this time give her shoulders a shake; he could see her resolve falling. 

"And what comes of it?" She asked reluctantly, and Anatole knew instantly he'd won her over. "If this all goes your way?"

"Exquisite pleasure,"

"Couldn't you get that from, I don't know, anywhere else?" She remarked, Anatole gripping her shoulders tighter. 

His eyes bulged with childlike urgency, "I will die if I don't have her! I will never get over it!" He cried out. Unfortunately, Helene knew this as fact. It wouldn't be the first time, and as fun as watching her brother pining for a day or two was, Marya as an obstacle meant his constant yearning could span a month. And that boy never let anything go. "Please, Lena. Give me this. Please," His voice softened to a whisper, letting his grip go entirely and taking a small step back. "Please, just...Marya isn't _that_ important, right?" Helene took a breath, glancing down at the ground then to the bottle opener. 

"Get me wine, please," 

"Is that a yes?"

"It is a give me the bottle," Anatole beamed, bouncing on his heels once or twice before scurrying away towards the wine cellar while she turned to face the counter and bury her face in her hands. 

_Marya isn't that important, right?_


End file.
